Half-truths - claire contreras

Youve heard of these groups - the secretive ones that only the cr me de la cr me are invited into, the ones outsiders speculate about for centuries - Im the second in my family invited to attend, but to them, Im fresh meat.

New blood.

New money, too.

They think theyll elbow past me, that Im here for their amusement, for them to walk all over, theyll find out soon enough that Im not.

I may look like one of them, with my designer bags and clothes straight from the Parisian runways, but Im not.

Im here for answers, to take revenge for blood spilled on their centuries-old Persian rugs.

I transferred here in search for answers about what happened to my older brother, who hightailed out of here, and my friend who seemingly disappeared into thin air.

I certainly wasnt here for the attention of the star hockey player, regardless of how much he willed my eyes his way.

I wasnt here for his scrutiny or his judgment or to read into his mysterious aura.

I was here for the society, because only they held the answers I needed.

That was, until I found out that in order to get those answers, I needed to go through him.

Hes saying if I want in, I have to play by their rules, follow their lead.

Its a game Im willing to play.

I may be the second person I know of to be invited into their society, but Ill be the first to make it out intact.